Predators: 2-14-9X - 5. Chapter 4.5

That was just one real throw, and now we're going to spend money on this...?

"Pete... Maybe we should..."

Peter's hand squeezed his shoulder and drew him toward the game. "We can't make any adjustments until you've actually handled some balls."

Oh my god!

Snickering, Aiden said "Did you have a pair in mind?"

Peter just looked at him, turning red, and started snickering too. He shook his head. Covering his mouth.

Aiden giggled. It's a wild idea... but it'd be hilarious! "What if I had a pair in mind?" And he deliberately looked at Peter's waistline. His voice was probably too loud, but only watching Peter mattered.

Peter got a little redder, his eyes wide, and was clearly struggling not to laugh. He came close to Aiden, used his coat to pull him upright. In Aiden's ear he whispered, "A good response to my 'kiss' earlier. For just a moment you thought I was going to kiss you and, for just a moment I..." he chuckled, "Well played."

Peter pushed him toward the game. "Focus on pitching."

The owner was a weathered old man straight out of some gypsy band in a movie. Aiden caught Peter's wrist when he went for his wallet, and shook his head. Peter didn't argue. Aiden paid.

The owner put three balls on one of the dishes spaced along the counter, taking time to explain the scoring system for prizes, and finished with "Remember to keep your feet behind the chalk line. And may your aim be true."

Aiden looked at the targets, tiered by difficulty, then at the prizes. Maybe I should go for an easy one first? But what do I wanna try for last?

There were two types of prizes, toys and stuffed animals. The toys were a chaos of small shapes and bits of color he passed over. Among the animals, there were the usual things, puppies and kittens, and then some parrots, eagles, and robins, all done in goofy miniature. Each step harder the animals got larger, or more realistic, or both, the toys larger, more complicated. Everything seemingly better quality. It was the hardest level rewards, naturally, that drew his eye. There, the animals looked the best. Among standards, there were surprises, a white fox, a panther so dark it looked like velvet, a natural looking penguin baby, a sea otter, a tawny lion with a black mane with red tips, and a smoke gray tiger with black stripes.

Aiden positioned his feet, chose his target and threw. The ball cleared the distance to one of the straight-shot easy ones, but it hit high, bouncing off the back wall. Okay, man, too early...

He took a deep breath and let it out. Okay... Inhale. Hold. Reach back. And...

The ball bounced off the platform holding the bottles he'd aimed for. Too late...

Come on! I can do this...

He let out a shuddering breath and swallowed. "Okay..." he blinked. The carnie was holding out the third ball with a smile "May your aim be true, this time."

He took it and swallowed. Then managed to whisper "Thanks."

The man kept smiling as Aiden stepped back to square himself with the line. The guy just kept watching. Half in and half out of view, creepy. It's just one guy, it's his game, he's practically furniture, right?

Okay...

The carnie shifted and when Aiden glanced over, the man smiled. Aiden's face formed a smile in reflex courtesy.

Now forget that guy. There's no one here that matters, except...

Over his shoulder he could see Peter. Hands in his pockets, feet a bit apart. His stillness was startling against the motion and noise of the rest of the pier. Peter's eyes weren't on him, he could tell, but on the targets. No shifting or stomping, no glancing around, he stood rooted steady and patient, a tree in a black leather coat.

Nothing like that girl...

Blue eyes met his and then another of those smiles revealed itself.

Face hot again, damn it, he turned back and gave the smile that answered Peter's to the baseball.

"One more." he murmured. Aiden stepped back, squared himself and threw.

The ball had been the right height but had gone wide. Three balls and three misses.

"Too bad." the carnie said with another smile. "I think you've almost got it. Would you like to go another round?"

Heart thudding and face hot, and a sinking weight in his stomach, Aiden started away without answering.

Peter stepped in front of him after only three feet. One palm pressed to the center of Aiden's chest, stepping with him. Applying breaks rather than being a wall. They stopped with Peter's hand still there and Aiden's hands on Peter's arms.

"Nobody likes to lose. Especially in front of people." Peter whispered, his other hand smoothing over Aiden's hood as if it was his hair. "It's all over your face. It's natural, but think. That was practice, practice, Aiden, remember?" Peter smiled at him, something warm, that turned somehow focused, or determined. "This inning is over," Peter's slid beside him and used an arm around his waist to turn Aiden around, "Now it's back to the bullpen."

Aiden shrugged. "You weren't even looking."

"You didn't catch me looking." Peter shifted away enough to bump their shoulders together. He went on in a low murmur, "Lurking around and watching people is part of my profession. I wouldn't be very good at it if I got caught." Peter watched Aiden sideways with a smirk until Aiden smiled back. "Come on."

They carved out an area of open space out of the way of traffic but within sight of the game and went to work. "Work" being him throwing an apple from some forgotten depth of Peter's backpack into Peter's hand. Half the weight, Peter said, but better than the bottle.

Besides catch, some of the time Peter stood behind or beside Aiden watching or guiding the movement as Aiden pretended to throw.

The closeness and the touching kept Aiden's face, and something else, "hot." Leaving Aiden nervous and dreading the moment Peter caught on. Peter, for his part, was a gentle coach and seemed oblivious to Aiden's rising and falling "problem." Bouts of fear, relief, embarrassment, and pride flashed behind everything, but fighting to keep his attention on throwing left him no time to think about it. Even during breaks.

Every few minutes Peter stopped him to make him drink slushy Kool-aide, working hard to keep him from sweating. Each time Peter started up a new round of story telling where one of them would pick someone out of the crowd and make up something about who they were and what they were doing there and why. It was a Ravenwolfe House exercise in observation, deduction, and the empathy needed to put yourself in someone else's situation. Most of their narratives tonight though, ended up preposterous. Humor was a part of the game, but the number one rule was not to be mean.

At first Aiden accused Peter of having an unfair advantage. Peter just smiled and promised that he'd never used people's secrets in the game. While they started with some realism, by break three a pale blonde girl that looked slender even in her coat was declared to be a Viking warrior maid, the friends with her fellow raiders, sailing toward hostile shores, seeking food to sustain a village beset with famine. When the girls seemed to giggle in their direction, Peter answered Aiden's raised eyebrow with a declaration.

"She is a princess bound to extend her family line with outlander stock. They are considering attacking our island to make off with you."

Aiden snorted and blushed, "Clean out your ears, Superman. Nobody is going to come after me if they think you're on the menu."

Peter laughed "You underestimate yourself, my prince." He bowed to Aiden with a flourish, somehow making it seem natural, "Fear not, for though I may be a knight of darkness, I am bound to protect you."

Aiden laughed, smiling at his feet, "You nut."

Peter threw an arm over Aiden and steered them back to the game. "That may be as well may not be. Regardless, it is past time for the next inning."

Aiden rodd the humor of the game all the way through Peter paying. He got serious holding the first ball, but never lost the smile. The first throw was a miss, but barely. The second anticipation made him tense and he threw too hard and let go too early.

He tried calming down for the third by picturing Peter thrown over the shoulder of a comically large Viking while Aiden chased after throwing baseballs. On fire.

He snickered all the while, but he took his third throw aiming at the Viking's helmet, on the far side of the bottles. This time, the sound of falling metal went with the thud of hitting wood.

Aiden put his fists in the air. "Yes!"

"Congratulations, Aiden." Peter said behind him.

Aiden spun and practically ran at Peter, throwing his arms out. Peter caught him and held them both up without moving. "That was so cool!" Aiden said against Peter's neck hugging tightly.

Peter hugged him back and, with an obvious smile in his voice, said "Indeed it was." Peter turned him around, with his hands squeezing Aiden's shoulders, Peter said next to his ear "Do you want to keep playing?"

Aiden nodded, and this time Peter didn't have to push.

In fact, he followed. For his prize he chose a blue smiley face ball a little smaller than a baseball. He held it out toward Peter, but his friend shook his head before he could say anything.

"Aiden, I just passed down things I already know. You chose to try learning. You chose to play. You put in the practice. If it was as simple as just doing what the coach says, anyone would be major league. You took what I said and showed you and you figured out how to make it work for yourself. So, you keep the prize. To remember what can happen when you test your limits, rather than accept them."

Aiden giggled at his friend's earnest face, nodding. "Okay, Pete." He put it in his coat pocket. He gave Peter a red-faced smile.

Peter put money on the counter, and the game got back underway.

Rounds and breaks, rounds and breaks Aiden kept playing. Breaks now were almost silent as Aiden stood staring, picking his next target, imagining the timing of the next throw. During rounds he hardly noticed the crowd or the carnie. He had attained the rare focus needed for truly epic Tetris scores.

He moved to higher difficulty targets. Throws at different heights, requiring successive hits to win. After four innings Aiden had filled an impressive scorecard of small and medium wins in place of prizes. And now, he felt ready for a run at the tiger.

Aiden stood and returned himself to the focus place. There he was himself, ball in hand, the game before him. He chose his target and pushed the rest away. He imagined the throw planned it, the path from himself to a point beyond the bottles. He twisted back, raised his arm, brought it around.

Shoulder, elbow, wrist, release...

The ball spun away from him and hit the silver bottles.

"Yes!" He laughed, he felt the stretching tension of his smile on his own face.

Only a moment later though, the bottom fell out of his stomach. On the shelf, one bottle of the stacked triangle still stood. As bad as a miss. A loss. Aiden's face burned again as he cringed. "Spoke too soon, I guess."

"A shame." the carnie said. Aiden looked at him and saw his face wrinkled in what might have been sympathy. "An impressive game," the man went on, then he marked the card. "but a shame."

Aiden nodded, eyes downcast to the counter, shifting as he thought. I thought I had it... The half-realized vision of holding the tiger as a trophy and proudly presenting the proof of his efforts to... it didn't matter. The disappointment fell on him like an unexpected punch.

He shook his head and turned away when the carnie spoke again. Quickly Aiden pushed the weight of it off. He stood, he smiled, and he went back to Peter. When he put his hands in his pockets he felt the ball, his first, and now only, prize. He squeezed it, and a flicker of that warmth and pride he felt when he'd won it returned.

When he reached Peter Aiden’s small smile was genuine. "Thanks, Pete."

Only after his whisper did Aiden properly look at his friend. Peter stood still, so completely still as a statue was still. A small downturn of his mouth too subtle to be a frown. But there was an intensity to Peter's eyes that made Aiden freeze.

What the..?

But before he finished the thought he was sure Peter was looking past him. A knot in his stomach he hadn't noticed eased a bit. But he remained frozen. Looking at that not quite expression, that focus... even directed at someone else, it held him. Unable to move, unable to look away, barely able to breathe.

Always curious, always thinking, Aiden sought to make sense of it. For what seemed a long time, he was at a loss. Then he found it, realized he'd known it instantly, instinctively, and shied away in denial.

That stillness, that focus, they were... he ached with a cold burn of shame at the thought... they might be...

He swallowed, felt sandpaper roughness. A heavy weight in his stomach, as if he swallowed the word.

Inhuman.

Peter's eyes closed. Aiden watched the apple in his throat bob once, twice. A deep breath in, and then a long exhale that fogged around his mouth as if he breathed out cold smoke. When Peter's eyes opened, they narrowed. His eyebrows scrunched, his jaw went tight, and his lips pressed together in a line so tightly they were white.

Peter stepped past him and Aiden could finally start to relax. He gasped a soft laugh as he finally breathed deep, giddy vaguely, to see his friend again.

Then he realized two things.

One, Peter had been looking at the carnie.

Two, for some reason, Peter Dane was fucking pissed.

Shivering, Aiden caught up, but every time he tried to ask, the words crumbled away.

Aiden watched as Peter waited in line. Peter's angry expression faded by the second. When he reached the counter, he seemed perfectly relaxed, easy going, ready to play

Peter played, but Aiden watched his friend, not the targets. And after watching the first few tosses he realized something else. Peter was moving exactly like him. After that, Aiden shifted, unable to look up at Peter. Unsure why it made him so uncomfortable.

It's the same as when he copied my skee-ball toss, Aiden thought to himself. But he was thinking then... And he wasn't angry. If this was about me missing, he'd tell me. Then he shook his head. No, he wouldn't be angry about that. He'd say "It's alright, you're alright," and ask me if I wanted to keep playing.

Aiden turned to the targets. Peter had just hit a stack squarely and the carnie was marking it on a scorecard. He handed it to Peter, then went to start some guy with a girl behind him.

Peter dropped the card to the counter and Aiden read it. Maybe he's not throwing like me. He's already thrown four while I was spacing out and he hasn't missed...

"Hey, Pete?" Aiden whispered.

"Shh," was Peter's answer. "I'll explain once I'm sure."

Aiden blinked. Sure about what? He stepped back like Peter had, getting a view of pitcher and target.

When he threw Peter took a couple steps back, and then in a single burst of motion that was much smoother than any of his attempts, let another ball fly. This time could see it all and he expected a solid hit. But, when the dust settled, one bottle was still standing.

Peter said nothing as the carnie marked the loss and, getting cash from his bag, paid for another game. "Aiden, you take this one. Go for the prize you wanted before."

"Pete, what's-"

Peter drew him away a few feet and squeezed his shoulder. "Use the focus trick and just focus on pitching until I say something, ok?" He smiled and hugged Aiden.

Although surprised and still confused as hell, as he hugged back the tension he felt finally melted.

Peter gave Aiden another of those smiles. Almost impossibly wide, yet with just a hint of teeth, full of warmth and light. A smile deeper than skin. It was the tip of an iceberg, just the top of sincere feelings rooted in his eyes. It made him happier every time he saw it. At least a little.

Peter walked him back to the counter. “Push everything you don’t need away. Just focus on pitching.”

He nodded and did. Taking special care to imagine tossing the creepy carnie over his mental wall. All but alone in that place in his head. Aiden reflected on what Peter had showed him, on his throws up to now, visualized the next one, and threw.

Reflect, adjust, repeat…

Again…

Again…

Aga-

Suddenly he couldn’t move his arm. He blinked, he looked. Peter’s hand was covering the ball in his. Peter’s eyes held his.

“Wait a moment, please.” Peter said softly.

Aiden nodded. He watched Peter move down the counter to stand in front of the owner. The old man had an odd expression, for his profession. Not happy, not friendly, for all that he was smiling, the old man had angry eyes.

Peter stood in front of, but a few feet from, the man. Something about it struck Aiden as loose, but not relaxed. Something else. And then he smiled at the man. Aiden was reminded of the smile earlier when Peter spoke with Dr. Thompson. I about to know what it might mean… Aiden thought.

“Would you like to play?” The carnie said, not quite sounding like he meant it.

“Yes, I believe I would.” Peter put down some money, although Aiden couldn't see how much. The carnie swallowed though. “Bring a whole basket over here. It'll save time.”

The carnie looked at Peter, looked at the money, back at Peter. Then he smiled, “Of course, sir.” He lifted the money and turned, stepping toward one of the wicker baskets of baseballs. Peter moved to the counter, reached over it, and then he was sitting on the counter sideways.

The carnie just then turned around with the basket. Peter had been that fast. The guy's whole body jerked when he saw Peter sitting there. “What do you think-” he started to snarl but Peter interrupted.

“I think…” Peter spoke evenly, still with that expression, “That the money I’m spending, and have spent, at your attraction should garner at least the courtesy to rest while my friend finishes his game. Unless you’d like to return to me my payment?”

The guy clearly didn’t like Peter sitting there. But he just as clearly was not reaching for the pocket that had swallowed Peter’s money. Aiden backed up a little to see the guy’s expression. He was narrow-eyed and shifty, eyes darting to the sides. His forehead was wrinkled above a wide smile. “Could you move to a different part of the counter, then?”

He looks like a rat… Aiden grinned.

Peter appeared to consider it, but didn’t look away from him. “I prefer to sit here. I think it would… lead to problems if I were to relocate.” That odd smile returned. “It would be more profitable if there weren’t any problems.”

The carnie’s jaw tensed, he really didn’t like it. But just then a small group came up to the game. Peter didn’t look around. After a few moments the carnie had to back away to take the newcomers’ cash and pass out balls. He was back in sales pitch mode, but he kept eying Peter. He wiped his forehead.

Woah, it’s freezing, and this guy is sweating?

“Aiden,” Peter called, “focus and throw when you’re ready. You’ve got this. Just take your time.” The whole time he spoke Peter was watching the carnie.

“Ok, Pete.” Aiden answered. What the hell? This is weird, right? He thought to himself. Something’s obviously going on, and…

“Focus, Aiden.” Peter smiled at him, a real smile before turning his head back to watch the owner. “Trust me.”

Aiden felt himself blush and huffed a small laugh. “Busted.”

He turned to the game. Okay… He shook himself and stretched his arm. This focus place thing is getting easier, but this is getting too weird… He sighed, and thought on it, letting his jaw move side to side. At Ravenwolfe, they’d taught that if you couldn’t get something off your mind, you gave it something else.

So he gave himself a different image. One he hadn’t used in years. Something he’d copied from his brother.

“Ladies and gentleman, it’s the bottom of the ninth. It’s been a tough game but the home team is up by one. We’re sitting at two outs, bases loaded with two strikes and three balls. It’s Desmond on the mound…”

He built the image, diamond, batter, catcher, empty stands. He concentrated until that was all there was on his mind. Then, he focused. He tapped the toes of each shoe on the ground, fixed his position. Nodded to the catcher.

The windup…

The pitch…

That’s a strike folks! And that’s the game!

This time Aiden waited, blinking, to be sure that all three bottles fell.

One, two, yeah… three.

It wasn’t quite real until the carnie said, gruffly. “Excellent aim. What’ll it be?”

Aiden’s face split in half with his smile. “The big back tiger please.”

Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES! Aiden was bouncing on his toes when they guy handed it over. In staggering randomness he half thought, half murmured, in a witch-like voice “I’ve got you, my pretty. Ahahhha!”

“Truly excellent.” Peter said, over the noise of the other people between them. “Now, come switch places with me."

Once Peter boosted him up to the counter, Aiden had a split view. Targets and prizes one way, Peter the other. So, perched from the opposite end, he had a much improved view of the actual pitches as Peter went to work.

Each pitch, he took a ball from the basket, rolled it in his right hand, and threw. All in seemingly one motion. Once he picked up the ball there was no pause. No hesitation. If he aimed, if he visualized, he did it all in that few instants.

When he had been throwing, he did it mostly from one spot. He moved to be in line with this or that target, sure, but when he threw. His feet had stayed planted. Peter hadn’t been that different before. But, he was copying me…

Now, Peter was throwing from further back. Twisting not just at the waist, but lower, he could tell from the way, one foot, would scrap back, barely touching the ground, before coming forward as he turned into his throw.

Watching the ball was harder after each throw. They’re getting faster… And Peter didn’t wait for the carnie to reset bottles, he just threw to another target. Working his way down the counter, ignoring the divisions between lanes, the other players gone.

Each time, Peter did pause to call out the targets value, which Aiden marked down in a notebook from Peter’s bag. Easy, medium, or hard, didn’t seem to matter. It’s almost like all he has do is pick up a ball and the rest just happens…

Aiden glanced at the carnie out of the corner of his eye. The guy stood up straight with his brow wrinkled, mouth a thin line. It was the first time he’d seen “wringing their hands” outside of a book. His darting rat eyes seemed to move between him and Peter. And the guy was still sweating.

It only took Peter a few minutes of the rapid-fire pitching before he’d worked his way down to Aiden.

“Let’s see.” Peter whispered, the arm he braced on the counter put his shoulder against Aiden’s back and they were practically cheek to cheek while Peter read his notes. Their gloves brushed as Peter took the pen. Then he wrote totals for each difficulty, and started tearing out the page.

“I think,” Peter said, holding it out to the carnie, giving him that strange smile “I’d like that panther, the otter, the baby penguin and the lion. From the hard row, of course.”

They had their menagerie after half a minute of more staring between Peter and the rat-faced man. Looking between the animals and the humans, he grinned and fought to hold back giggles. That’s the look on his face. A ‘wolfish’ smile…

In order to give himself somewhere else to look Aiden slid off the counter and packed the animals away. Peter lifted the bag and, touching Aiden’s shoulder, and they started to walk away.

Peter dropped his bag and turned back after a few feet. “One last thing,” he called.

The carnie glared.

Peter held up a baseball. Then, in fluid motion, he went through a windup worthy of a Chicago Cubs all-star and the ball cannoned back to the game.

There was a wooden crack.

The carnie stood frozen, blinking and open mouthed.

Aiden dimly realized that he probably matched. Holy shit…

There was a hole, through the back wall, right next to the guy’s head.

Peter walked back to the counter slowly. “I would suggest you run a fair game.” Peter’s voice was low. From where Aiden was it was hard to hear. He managed only because he was already paying attention and knew Peter’s voice. “I suggest it strongly. Next time you cheat one of my kind, they might not choose to miss."

“Umm…” Aiden croaked in a whisper as Peter reached him again, “Pete? Can I know what's going on now?"